


32-B-1 (Man down)

by KeepGoing



Series: Codes [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Dispatcher Mickey, EMT Ian, Fisting, Happy Ending, Ian is a hot head, Jealousy, M/M, Making Up, Miscommunication, Porn With Plot, Sort Of, The boys get into a fight, They love each other so much, Trust, extreme sexual content, mentions of milkovich siblings, part of the code series, sequel to 17-D-1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeepGoing/pseuds/KeepGoing
Summary: One shot companion piece to 17-D-1. Set in that universe.Ian comes home from work angry about a rumor he heard from a co-worker about Mickey. Words are had. Things are said. Secrets are revealed.Trust is built upon.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Codes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939483
Comments: 8
Kudos: 194





	32-B-1 (Man down)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to 17-D-1. If you haven't read that, you can still read this. It takes place in the same universe, but it will still make sense as a stand alone. 
> 
> GUYS. HI. I love this universe so much and all of you seemed to too, so me and a friend hatched this little sexy egg in my head and um *ahem* this was born. WARNING: There is fisting in this fic. There is plot and mushy stuff in this fic too but yeah. Fisting. So be warned. 
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL. 
> 
> Comments are LOVE.

Mickey hears the front door slam. Not only does he hear it, he feels it too. The fucking dishes on the table rattle for Christ’s sake. Mickey stirs the pop in front of him and watches as his boyfriend of almost a year now, practically rips off his EMT jacket and as soon as he realizes Mickey is closer to him than he realized, the already  extremely pissed off expression on his face deepens, and if Mickey wasn’t well...Mickey, he might be scared.

Maybe he still is. 

A little. 

A tiny bit.

Ian’s nostrils are  flaring and  he’s giving Mickey ‘the chin’ as he likes to call it and tease Ian about, but he can tell by the flames in Ian’s green eyes, now is not the time for teasing. 

“The fuck’s up with you?” Mickey grumbles, turning the flame off on the stove. 

“You  wanna know what I heard today?”

Mickey  can't help but roll his eyes because Ian comes home most nights with some shop talk drama about this guy or that girl that Mickey  doesn’t know nor cares to, but Ian rambles on about it for a good half hour over dinner; did Mickey mention  almost every night? But Mickey always humors him and tonight is no different. Mostly because if it's gotten Ian this mad, he  kinda has t o know, right?

“What did you hear today?” Mickey asks slowly and he knows  it's in a patronizing tone but hey, it's who is he is, okay?

“ It's fascinating really. I heard from Jake down at the station that he saw you in the coffee shop this morning.”

Mickey frowns, his back to Ian, pouring the cooked spaghetti into the  strainer in the sink. “Okay. Shit man, you guys must be running out of shit to talk about if seeing me at the coffee shop, like I am every morning, is gossip. Still  doesn’t make sense why  you’re so damn pissed. You were running late. You said you couldn’t go with me this morning-”

“Who’s the guy, Mick?”

Mickey’s shoulders tense and he just holds the now empty pot over the sink for a good whole minute. Shit.

“Nobody.”

“Nobody? Really? Because Jake said you guys were laughing and punching each other in the stomachs playfully, HE SAID PLAYFULLY MICK, and that you hugged him when you left.”

Mickey sighs and finally turns to drop the pot back onto the stove. “It  ain’t nobody, okay? Don’t fucking worry about it.”

“You’re fucking serious right now? Who the fuck is he, Mickey? Because I swear to fucking God if  you’re cheating on me with some hood rat and then coming home and giving me  some kind of  Southside STD, I will fucking kill you. Literally kill you.” Ian slams his hand down onto the counter and yea h , okay, that made Mickey jump. A little.

Just a  smidge .

“I  ain’t cheating on your tall ginger ass, okay? But you  don’t need to know who he is.  It’s nothing. And if you so easily forget, I used to be some hood rat.”

“So what? He someone from your past? Some guy you used to let fuck you behind a dumpster?”

“Trust me, I didn’t fuck him behind a dumpster. He  ain’t into that.”

“Oh, so you fucked him? Great. Just fucking perfect. Now I need to get tested and the lease on this place still has 5 months left and now I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do-”

“Fucking do about what?”

“Well, you  can't stay here.”

Mickey’s eyes widen. “Whoa, whoa, whoa  there tough guy. The fuck  are you  talkin ’ about?”

“You’re CHEATING on me, Mickey! I swore to myself I would never let anyone do that to me again. I wasn’t going to become someone’s doormat.”

“You  ain’t no one’s door mat. And I  ain’t cheatin ’ on you for the last fucking time. Would you relax for one  second? ”

Oh, well that did it. There is one thing and one thing only you do not do if you  don’t want the wrath of ginger to be bestowed on your ass. 

Don’t ever tell Ian Gallagher to relax.

“RELAX? DID YOU JUST TELL ME TO FUCKING RELAX?”

And there it is. 

The ginger wrath. 

“Would you keep your voice down?  You’re annoying the shit out of everybody. Christ.” Mickey sighs heavily and grips the edge of the counter. Hard. “It was my brother.”

“You’re b-brother?” Ian sputters. 

“Yea, my brother.  Hadn't seen him in fucking years. And he just shows the fuck back up  outta nowhere.  He’s got a kid and a baby mama and shit. Fucking crazy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“You knew I had brothers, Ian.”

“Yeah, but you said they had all fucked off somewhere.”

“They did.” Mickey reaches across the counter for his cigarettes. “But one of em’ came back.”

“Are you like...hiding me from him?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow at his boyfriend as he blows smoke from his nose. “More like I’m keeping him from you.  It’s just my family is complicated. Mandy,  she’s different. But Iggy and Colin? Not so much. Homophobic and racist and people you don’t bring to Sunday dinner at the  Gallagher's .”

“ So, you were keeping me from him.”

“That’s what you took from that? Christ.” Mickey brushes past him, dinner long past forgotten on the stove. “Dinner’s ready. I  ain’t dealing with this shit right now.”  It’s his turn to slam doors now, practically taking the bedroom door off the hinges. 

It takes a while for Ian to finally come to bed. Mickey can hear him cleaning up dinner and even hears the shower turn on before he finally opens the now broken door to their bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He  doesn’t even look at Mickey as he pulls sweatpants out of one of the drawers and pulls them over his long legs. Mickey is sitting up against the  headboard , smoking a joint and when Ian stands next to the bed, eyes looking at him like  some kind of kicked puppy, Mickey just rolls his eyes for the 15 th time that day and hands the joint to him.

He sits gingerly, no pun intended, on the edge of the bed and side eyes Mickey before finally speaking. “I’m not  apologizing until you tell me why you didn’t tell me about your brother.”

Mickey groans, rubbing his hands over his now almost numb face. “Seriously, Gallagher?”

“Yeah, seriously.”

Mickey drops his hands to his lap, the weed now making his body and mind calm and tingly. “Kinda didn’t want to bring you into that shit. The before shit. Before I got my life together. Before my dad died. Before I met you.”

“He’s your family. You know everyone in my family. You know all my friends. I know Mandy, that’s it.”

“She’s the only one  who's important.”

“Well, apparently he’s important too.”

Mickey only shrugs. 

“Mick...”

Mickey closes his eyes and rests his head back against the wall. “Brings back old shit. Saw his face today and all I could see was him as a little kid watching from the corner of the house while Dad wailed on me. Or him holding that gun at 14 at some guys head while my dad stole his money while I watched from the backseat of the car. I  don’t want to look at him and see you. I want you two to be  totally different things. Two different feelings. Memories. Mandy I can lump into with you.  It’s different with her. But not him. Not my brothers. Not ever. I  don’t hate them; it  wasn’t their faults, it  wasn’t any of ours faults; but it just  can't be them, Ian. Not ever. Not with us.”

Ian’s quiet for a few minutes and when Mickey’s eyes finally  flutter open, Ian is just staring at him with this  pained expression. 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that shit, Mick.”

“We all got sob stories.”

“Not like that.”

Mickey just cracks his knuckles, trying to get the memories out of his head. 

“You still should have told me. You have no idea how mad I was all day. And Jake with his fucking mouth. Putting all these fucked up things in my head.”

“I fucking hate that guy.  I’m gonna make sure he gets every fucking crack head call we have. I swear to Christ.”

Ian laughs. “Not his fault.”

“This is totally 100% his fault, Ian.”

“No,  it's yours for not telling me.”

“Oh my god, let it go.”

“ Mickey, I swear to God, I’m going to shove my foot up your ass.”

“Nah, I’m good but you could always use your fist.”

The silence in the bedroom after that is deafening. Mickey can hear the cars buzzing by below on the street 5 stories down from their apartment. He could hear Mrs. Nelson’s TV through the wall behind him. He could hear that damn young meth couple  downstairs screaming. As usual. But in the small 6 by 6 room they sleep in  every night , there  wasn’t a fucking sound.

“Is that something you want?” Ian whispers. 

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I mean,  “Ian swallows hard. “We could. I could. You know. If you wanted.”

“You wanna fist me?”

Ian’s eyes  literally  flutter shut and his bare chest flushes instantly. Okay, so  that’s a hard yes. 

“Answer me.”

Ian opens his eyes and Mickey  almost gasps at how dark they are. “Yeah Mick, I wanna fist you.”

And just like that, like most things between them, there was nothing left of the day but just them in this room on this bed together. They had made a deal. No matter what the day was before they got home; people unable to be resuscitated, mother’s screaming because their kid  wasn't breathing, gunshot wounds, hit and runs; no matter what they had seen and heard, once they were in this bedroom, all of that was over. It was just them. Together. They had made it through another day and they had each other. It was corny and  faggy and  sappy and all the shit Mickey hates, but it made sense. They made sense.  So , he lets it slide. 

“Okay.” Mickey breathes out. If it had been any other night, this may have not happened. But he was high as a mother fucker and he had just drug up some fucked-up memories of shit he had wished he could just forget, and all he needed was to forget and feel Ian. 

Ian stands and gets to the end of the bed and pulls Mickey by his ankles, dragging him so he is now laying completely down on the bed. Mickey laughs, because he forgets how strong he can be sometimes. Ian is just looking at him with hooded eyes and runs his fingers over Mickey’s bare ankle gently. His eyes are asking ‘you sure’ and when Mickey gives the smallest of nods, Ian groans and reaches up to pull Mickey’s own sweats down and completely off.  He’s already hard and when his cock slaps against his lower stomach once it is freed, Ian leans over to jerk it a few times. Fuck that feels good. 

Ian makes a show of his slow movements as he walks out of the room and into the bathroom and opening the bedside table drawer when he returns to get the  really good lube from the back of it. Mickey follows Ian with his eyes; savoring every inch of skin and ripple of muscle as he moves. Ian is a fucking work of art. It sounds fucking cheesy as hell, but  it’s the truth. Carved out of stone or some shit. He is so fucking hot that Mickey  almost literally can’t stand it sometimes. 

“Put the pillow under your ass.”

It’s a normal thing he does; Ian likes to fuck him like that sometimes so he can get the perfect angle on his prostate while he can still lean down to lick into his mouth as he fucks him. Mickey enjoys it 110% of the time. Mickey does what he is told and Ian keeps making these small ‘mmm’ sounds from his throat and Mickey knows Dom Ian is coming out to play tonight. Well, shit, how could he not with what  he’s about to do to Mickey? Mickey gets it. He welcomes it. 

Ian snaps on one of his blue rubber gloves that he  carries with him at all times for work and Mickey feels the lump in his throat and he swallows it down thickly. He has no idea why the fuck that was so hot. Maybe because Ian makes everything look hot. Or  maybe it’s the anticipation of  what’s the come. Either way, Mickey’s cock jerks at the sound and he can feel the drip from the tip of his dick onto his stomach. Ian sees it too;  literally licking his lips at the sight. Mickey might die tonight. Just from Ian’s  hotness alone. And  he’s totally fine with it. 

“I’ve only ever gotten 4 in.” Ian says softly, as his knees hit the floor and he presses his stomach and chest along the end of the bed between Mickey’s now spread legs. He rubs his latex covered pointer finger over Mickey’s dry hole and it  shouldn’t feel that good, but it does. Everything Ian does to him feels good. 

“I have faith in you.” Mickey tries to joke but it comes out more of a  whine as Ian’s finger pushes against his opening. 

“I’m  gonna wreck you. You might not be able to get fucked for a few days.” Ian’s voice is so low,  almost in this memorized tone. 

“Risk I’m willing to take.” Mickey spreads his legs wider and when the heel of his foot rubs against Ian’s shoulder in an oddly affectionate way, Ian’s breath stutters.

“Yeah, okay.”

Mickey hears the click of the lid on the lube bottle and he lays his head back against the mattress and squeezes his eyes shut. He  can't believe  he’s doing this. But it's something  he’s always wondered about. Something  he’s watched in porn and thought about how it would feel. But he never thought  he’d trust anyone enough to do it. But he has Ian. And he trusts Ian. 

The first finger goes it effortlessly.  It's something he has done to him  pretty much every night and with the latex and the expensive lube they only use on special occasions, it goes in even easier than normal. Ian only spends a few seconds really with one finger and when his middle finger eases in next, he scissors almost  immediately and Mickey feels the familiar burn and stretch and he moans low in his chest.  That’s the feeling. The feeling Ian makes him feel. The  almost out of body pleasure that he never had until Ian.

Ian’s ring finger gets a bit of resistance when he tries to push it alongside the others;  it's something Mickey honestly  can't control. But he bares down like he knows  he’s supposed to; just like when Ian shoves his 9 inches inside him; and after about 30 seconds, Ian’s fucking him with earnest; 3 fingers down past his knuckles, deep inside Mickey. His fingertips brush his sweet spot every other second and Mickey’s hips lift from the bed every damn time. 

“Stay still.” Ian growls, forcing Mickeys hips down his long arm across his pelvic bone. Mickey’s cock is now hard and leaking against Ian’s arm and Mickey lifts his head to look how the red hairs on his arm are now wet from his precum. Okay, now  that’s hot. He flops back down onto the bed with a soft moan and relaxes his hole as Ian works his fingers inside him. Mickey clenches his teeth when Ian’s pinkie joins the fun, because Jesus Fuck that’s tight, but Ian just moves his hand to pour more lube all over his hand, not before giving Mickey a little warning tap on his hip bone warning him to keep his hips still. 

It takes Ian a little bit to get his pinkie in, but Mickey  almost doesn’t even feel it, until he feels his thumb breach him and Ian stills for a second as Mickey hisses loudly through his teeth. 

“Stay still.” Ian fumbles, pouring even more lube onto his hand and then the tube is thrown somewhere on the floor and Ian’s arm is back on Mickey’s pelvis. 

“Okay. Okay. Christ.” Mickey is panting and Ian’s hand  isn't even all the way inside him yet. 

“I’m going to count to three. On three, bare down hard.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ian pants,  literally pants at Mickey’s words and on Ian’s whispered 3, Mickey does what  he’s told and there is a feeling Mickey has never experienced in his entire life.  It’s a surge of pain and then fullness that he can feel in his lower stomach and then an odd numbness in his arms and legs.  He’s shuddering; he can feel his body shaking and there are tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Holy fuck. 

“Mickey...” Ian whispers but Mickey  can’t move. He  can't blink. All he can do is feel. Feel the pressure and the different waves of pleasure that keep washing over him over and over. Ian has  shoved some big shit up Mickey’s ass before. Wide black dildo’s that no ass should be able to take. Beads so large Mickey felt like  he’d never be able to get fucked again because there was no way it  didn’t destroy him. But this, this feels so incredibly different than any of those. Because it  wasn’t some piece of plastic. This was Ian. And Ian’s hand is warm and soft and its attached to a man he loves more than anything in this pathetic shit show of a world. Its more intense than any of those weird and taboo things they have done before. 

“I... fuck.” Ian whispers again. “Hold still. Let me...” And then Mickey screams so loudly it  literally echoes off the empty walls. Ian clenches his fist tight inside him and Mickey  can't breathe. He seriously cannot breathe. Ian’s knuckles are pressed hard against his prostate, he  isn't sure if it's all of them or just one, but it  doesn't matter because Mickey has never in his entire life, felt something so intense.  He’s crying now; he can feel the tears streaming down his face and suddenly Ian is shifting his body and looking up at Mickey’s tear stained face. 

“Oh god. Are you okay?  I’m gonna stop. Fuck. I shouldn’t have...”

“Shut....the...fuck...up. Keep...going. Fuck. Don’t fucking...stop.” Mickey hiccups out as air comes back into his lungs. He feels connected in such a primal way. He feels owned. And needy. And open.  It's so many emotions rolling over his body and in his rushing blood he  can't even pinpoint one emotion to the next. 

Ian seems okay with Mickey’s protest so he settles himself back into his  previous position and ever so carefully twists his hand at the wrist. Mickey can feel the rim of his ass catching on the bone of Ian’s hand and his vision goes white. He needs Ian to stop. But he never wants Ian to stop. 

“Such a good boy.” 

It’s barely a whisper; just a huff of air from Ian’s lips but Mickey hears it and his cock stiffens and his balls tighten against his body and he’s leaking more than he ever has ever and then it's just wet and hot on his ball sack and when he leans up Ian’s mouth is latched onto him; licking and sucking each one of his balls into his mouth at a time. He’s moaning pornographically around them, which  isn't helping the tightness situation and Mickey’s felt like he was on the verge of  cumming now for the entire time Ian’s hand has been in his ass but now with the sensation and of Ian’s mouth on his balls he’s right fucking there, teetering on the edge but not quite able to fall over. 

Ian does another small twist of wrist and sucks Mickey’s entire left ball into his mouth and Mickey is shaking. His teeth are chattering and his entire body is buzzing and he can feel the sweat from his neck sliding down into the crevice of his clavicle and there are  droplets dripping down his sides from the wetness on his chest and stomach and he’s covered in goosebumps from the different temperatures on his skin and he thinks he might die from this. 

32-B-1.

Man down.

His throat his dry from his mouth hanging open for what seems like hours now and he doesn’t even have the strength to open his eyes anymore and he knows he whispers it but he  can't hear it but he Ian must have heard the small ‘please’ that escapes his lips, begging to let him cum and as Ian engulfs both of Mickey’s balls as much as he can in his mouth and hums softly, Ian’s hand flexes out; all 5 fingers spreading out into Mickey’s ass and there’s the familiar tingle in Mickey’s spine and fire in his gut and Mickey  can't even pinpoint the exact moment Ian’s hand is yanked from his body, because all he feels his the sweet release of his orgasm and for the first time ever with Ian, he  cums , silently.  There’s a choking sound coming from him as he gasps for air and his cock just shoots; over and over all over his stomach and Ian’s arm that is still pressed securely and almost centering and calming Mickey, on his pelvis. 

There is nothing but a floating sensation after that. He always feels calm and a tad bit euphoric after he  cums , but this feeling is just a  white-hot warmth and a rainbow of colors behind his eyes as he goes in and out of consciousness.  It’s like a  really good high of weed and painkillers but with a new feeling of fullness instead of emptiness he used to feel when he mixed that cocktail in his youth. He feels safe. Kept. Loved. 

When he blinks his eyes open, the room is dark and Ian’s body is pressed up against his back his arms are wrapped around him tightly. He shifts his hips, letting Ian know with his body  he’s finally come to. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Mickey croaks out. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. That was... yeah . Fuck.”

It's silent for a while;  both of them just taking in the moment and the things that were felt. Mickey swallows and smacks his lips together. 

“Waters on the table. And Aleve. Anti-inflammatory.” Ian whispers. Mickey reaches his arm out, hand still shaking a little and leans up on his elbow, drinking down the entire glass and the pills. He lies back down slowly; feeling the pain deep inside him. 

“You were right. I’ll be out of commission a few days.”

“Mmm.” Ian nuzzles the back of his neck. “Was it worth it”

Mickey chuckles and presses his head back so it rests on Ian’s shoulder. “Yeah. Never came like that ever.” He pauses. “Did you?”

“ Mmm hmm. Right in my sweats. Hottest thing  I’ve ever done and seen,  hands down . No pun intended.”

Mickey snorts and intertwines his fingers in Ian’s on his stomach. “Glad to be of service.”

“Thank you.”

“For what? You did all the work.”

“For trusting me enough to do that to you.”

“Course. Anything I can give you that intense?”

“I’ll think of something.”

They settle into bed, Ian pulling the blankets up to their shoulders and presses his face into the edge of Mickey’s pillow. Mickey fades in and out of sleep for a few minutes; body blissed and mind calm. 

“I love  you, you know.” 

Mickey squeezes his eyes shut, the sting of tears threatening. He knows. Of course, he knows.  He’s known since that day on the roof. He should tell Ian. He should tell him he knows he loves him. He feels it too. He feels it in  every single thing Ian does. He just  doesn't know if Ian feels it from Mickey too. 

“I know.” Mickey whispers. “Me too, Gallagher.”


End file.
